


Chocolate Swiss Meringue

by Werelibrarian



Series: A Little Sugar [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Detectives, First Dates, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9325316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werelibrarian/pseuds/Werelibrarian
Summary: "Speaking of Matt and Detective Page, I almost don't know what to do without them heckling," Foggy admitted after a silence."Do whatever you want," Frank said, making sure to keep smiling but being serious, "and don't do anything you don't want. I'm not expecting anything."Foggy's eyebrow rose. "This is a food-preparation area, Detective Castle," he said primly, "whatever it is that you're not expecting, there's no chance of it happening here."





	

The windows of the Foggy Afternoon Cafe were dark when Frank pulled up at the curb, but a yellowish glow from behind the curtain that its owner called a kitchen door told Frank that Foggy hadn't given up on him.

Frank tilted the rear-view mirror and snugged the knot of his tie against his throat. Looked at himself. He loosened it and pulled it casually askew--ugh, sloppy. He yanked it over his head and threw it in the glove compartment, then he unbuttoned his top button. That wasn't so bad, was it?

He headbutted the steering wheel, narrowly missing the horn. "Frank, you complete idiot," he groaned.

Without taking his head off the wheel, he redid his top button. Foggy knew Frank was a cop with no life when he invited him for a drink. Showing up looking like a cop with no life wasn't going to be a deal-breaker, he hoped. He got out of the car.

Foggy skidded through the curtain practically the instant Frank's knuckles tapped the door. Frank bit his lip. Gone was the rainbow bandana and the flour-dusted cargo shorts. Foggy was wearing dark jeans and a pink button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but he still had on his apron, which was smeared with purple frosting. He turned a lock and opened the front door.

"Hi," was Foggy's voice a little breathless, or was Frank imagining it?

"Hey," Frank said. Foggy's hair smelled of shampoo and warm cake. "Sorry I'm late. Work got a little bit--" he broke off with a vague gesture. The horrible things he saw at his job had no place inside the walls of Foggy's cafe.

"It's OK. Come on back." Foggy held the curtain aside.

When he'd been last in the kitchen, Foggy's minions had been up to their elbows in cupcake trays, bowls full of coloured goops, and little white flowers dotted on wax paper, all marinating in a fug of cooking sugar and stress. Now it was spotless steel, except for a tower of the cafe's green and white striped baker's boxes stacked neatly by the door.

A bottle of wine and two glasses sat in the middle of the baking table.

"What happened to the six-dozen cupcakes you said we had to frost?"

Foggy tucked his hair behind his ear. "Matt reminded me that you don't have a food-handling certificate and that I could get hauled away on a health-code violation, so I bribed Marci to help and made Matt pack the boxes."

Frank nodded slowly. Karen had caught him watching cupcake-frosting videos at the precinct and he'd been forced to buy her silence by taking a week's worth of her paperwork. That was fine, she was awful at paperwork anyway.

"Do you want some wine?" Foggy was fiddling with the wine bottle, "It should be pretty good, Marci stole it from her restaurant--oh shit." He shot a look at the badge that was still clipped to Frank's belt.

Frank chuckled. He unclipped it and stuck it in his coat pocket, then hung his coat on the rack by the dividing curtain.

"If Marci wants to steal from work, someone else will have to chase her down. I'm off-duty." Frank sat down in one of the high stools and caught the corner of Foggy's apron. He tugged on it gently until Foggy edged forward. "And so are you."

Foggy's face went pink as Frank reached around him with both arms, untied the strings and lifted the apron over his head.

Foggy poured the wine and they sipped it, chatting politely about nothing the way you were supposed to on first dates. Foggy was funny and smart and amazing--this was already in evidence--but so many things about him made Frank stare in actual wonderment. His success at law school. His loyalty to and obvious love for that goober Murdock. Their career-jeopardizing principled stand against the corporate firm that had rescinded their job-offers and how he'd taken over the cafe to support Murdock during an unpaid position that had gotten the blind lawyer's career back on track. After that, how the cafe had succeeded but Foggy's job interviews hadn't.

"He owes you a lot," Frank said.

"Nah," Foggy said expansively. "You've known Detective Page a long time, haven't you?"

Frank nodded. She'd come to him fresh off walking a Staten Island beat, scrubbed and eager (and naïve) as a high-school freshman to Frank's weary eyes.

Foggy shrugged. "What does she owe you?"

Frank smiled into his wineglass. Karen Page was going to give him an ulcer one day, but he wouldn't have traded the experience of watching her become a damn good detective for all the antacids in all the desk drawers in the NYPD. Foggy was right. Owing was for chumps.

"Not a thing," he conceded.

"Speaking of Matt and Detective Page, I almost don't know what to do without them heckling," Foggy admitted after a silence.

"Do whatever you want," Frank said, making sure to keep smiling but being serious, "and don't do anything you don't want. I'm not expecting anything."

Foggy's eyebrow rose. "This is a food-preparation area, Detective Castle," he said primly, "whatever it is that you're not expecting, there's no chance of it happening here."

Frank blinked and burst out laughing. "Of course, what was I thinking."

He was still laughing when Foggy kissed him.

Foggy didn't kiss like a baker. Bakers were patient, creative people who dispensed sweet treats and smiles all day. Foggy kissed like--Frank's breath hitched when he felt teeth--like the worst sort of lawyer Frank had ever had the misfortune to glare at from the witness stand. He kissed like he could taste blood in the water.

Frank broke the kiss and stared up at Foggy's face. Up? Why was he looking up? Oh that's right, Foggy had dipped him over the metal baking table and was keeping him from falling out of his seat with an arm around his back.

"Oh my god," he gasped. His knees were weak. This was insane--a gunman taking pot-shots from a third-storey apartment had pinned him and Karen behind the squad car just last week and he'd stood his ground. Now, a little sugar from a cute cake-maker and his lower half became wet spaghetti.

"Sorry, am I--is it too much?" Foggy asked, his voice soft and worried.

"Yes, please," Frank said. Foggy looked confused, so Frank grabbed him by the back of the neck and crashed their mouths together. Foggy held still, let him control the kiss, which was nice but--

Frank sighed and deliberately melted into it, dragging his fingers down a broad, strong back. It made Foggy shiver, and--Frank actually fluttered inside, what the hell--growl into the kiss.

After a while, the edge of the table started to cut into Frank's spine. He lifted his hips, trying to relieve the pressure, and bumped into Foggy's--oh my.

This time Foggy broke away with a harsh inhale. "Sorry," he gasped. "I'm sorry, it's not what--" he looked embarrassed, like he hadn't just been revving Frank's engine so brilliantly Frank felt like purring.

"Foggy, stop apologizing, I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Frank said, hard inside his pants and appallingly out of breath. He pressed up so Foggy could feel it.

With a pained expression, Foggy pulled away. "It's just that, I wasn't kidding about nothing happening tonight."

"I know." Frank straightened up and stretched his back. "It's a kitchen. And a first date."

"That, and I have to be at a farmer's market in Queens at seven AM."

Foggy's hair was standing up wildly--Frank's fault--and his jeans were tented--also Frank's fault. Frank nodded at Foggy's words, but oh, flushed and aroused was a good look on him.

"It's OK," Frank stood and kissed him gently, making sure it didn't get too heated, "like I said, I'm not going anywhere."

Foggy ducked his head, which made Frank shake his in disbelief--how could a man who kissed as filthy as this one be so outwardly mild, and kind, and adorable, and--

Frank swatted at something that sounded like Karen laughing at him. "I think that more wine would probably be a bad idea. Can I drive you home?"

A tortured look crossed Foggy's face.

"What?"

"I live upstairs," he admitted. Frank bit his tongue and tried not to imagine being shoved backwards into Foggy's bed.

"I'll walk you to your door?" Off Foggy's suspicious glance he said, "don't worry, Foggy, you're safe with me."

Foggy pressed his mouth to Frank's ear. "What makes you think you're safe with me?" he asked, voice hot.

Frank's left knee wobbled and knocked into his right one. "Your commitment to the cupcake needs of the people of Queens?" he coughed.

"I _am_ a professional," Foggy said, very seriously.

Frank could only nod.

Foggy flitted around the cafe checking off-switches and locking various refrigerators and pastry cases, then led Frank out the front door. As he turned the key, Frank reached out and lightly palmed his rear end.

"Frank!" Foggy laughed. "Ask first!"

"May I touch your behind?" Frank asked, obediently.

"You may take my arm." Foggy sniffed, but his dimples were out.

The walk to the entrance of Foggy's building was literally three steps, but he didn't let go of Frank's arm as he unlocked the front door and pulled Frank into the hallway. "I live on six, and there's no elevator. How's your cardio?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

"I'll survive." Frank said gravely.

Frank had never made a dating profile, but even if he had he would not have been the kind to put "likes long walks". And yet, he felt the need to stretch out every step with Foggy next to him. They talked in quiet voices--he could hear snoring and late night TV shows through the walls--and made very good use of the corner of every stairway landing.

"This is me," Foggy said when they reached the sixth floor. Frank pressed his lips together.

"Ok," he said, and let go of Foggy's waist with a reassuring smile.

Suddenly, the world spun and he had the wall to his back and Foggy's tongue in his mouth. " Frank, I want you," Foggy panted, smearing the words, "want you to come inside, so badly."

"I will," Frank mumbled, "I will, I promise, gonna be so good to you," Foggy keened softly as Frank sucked on his throat, "gonna make you scream, but--" he blew out a slow, calming breath against Foggy's hot skin, "not tonight."

Foggy did the same. "Not tonight," he agreed.

"Got your key?" Frank asked, closing his eyes and smoothing back Foggy's hair.

"Yeah."

"Open the door."

"Ok."

Foggy's apartment was unexceptional. There was nothing inside Frank hadn't seen a million times before on the job, except for the man standing in the doorway, against a background of piles of unopened mail, framed photos and diplomas, a rainbow bandana hanging from the doorknob to the bedroom. He was something Frank had never seen before in his life.

Frank lined up the tips of his shoes with the border between the hallway carpet and Foggy's apartment carpet and he wasn't going to cross it. Foggy looked at Frank's feet like he knew what was going on his head and smiled impishly.

"Come kiss me goodnight," he ordered, backing further into the apartment.

Frank wasn't going to play games. "Careful," he warned. Foggy tipped his head, conceding defeat, and walked closer to the door. He put his arms around Frank's neck and kissed him softly. Frank sighed happily and clung onto the doorjamb.

"Goodnight, Detective."

"Goodnight, Foggy."

They kissed until Frank was lamely groping for the doorknob because they weren't going to stop until he put a physical barrier between them.

"I'll be good," said Foggy at last, licking his lips. "Go on." he nodded at the stairs.

As Frank started to trot down the steps, he heard a soft whistle. He looked up. Foggy was leaning over the railing, his chin propped in his hand, his gaze blatantly appreciative.

"Can I call you tomorrow?" Frank called softly.

"I think you'd better,” Foggy said with a wink.


End file.
